A Home Like Ours by Fiona Lowe (feel good books .txt) 📕

His claim tangled with the message his infrequent contact sent, but well-honed survival skills told her not to mention it. ‘It’s an awesome surprise. Thank you.’

She kissed him, not only to placate him but to give herself time to think of how to fix this. How to make him feel appreciated and involved. Although they’d cut and eaten Milo’s cake, hers was still intact.

‘Now you’re here, let’s sing happy birthday to Milo and get a photo to put next to the one of us when he was born.’

His grip tightened, pinching her. ‘Have you lost your freakin’ mind? I’m not singing happy birthday with apes or terrorist scum who don’t even know the words.’

The silence behind her intensified. Jade didn’t know where to look or what to do. If she told Corey to shut up, he’d go ballistic. If she told the women he was drunk and he didn’t mean what he said, his reaction would likely be the same.

‘Everything okay, Jade?’

She jumped at Lachlan’s voice.

Corey spun around to face him. ‘Who the hell are you?’

‘A friend of Jade’s.’

‘Is that right?’

Corey was shorter than Lachlan but he took a step towards him and puffed out his chest. Some of Jade’s delicious lunch rose to the back of her throat and her already highly tuned radar flicked onto high alert.

‘Corey, let’s go home.’

He shook off her arm and kept his gaze on Lachlan. ‘Well, friend of Jade’s, I’m the father of her kid, so fuck off.’

‘Corey!’

‘I’m not disputing who you are,’ Lachlan said evenly. His gaze was fixed on Jade, his forest-green eyes full of questions. ‘I was just asking Jade if she’s okay.’

Her heart raced like a cornered rabbit. ‘Yeah, all good. But Corey’s tired after a long drive, so we should go.’

‘You sure?’ Bob asked. ‘We haven’t cut your cake.’

The kindness and concern in his eyes matched Lachlan’s, but instead of circling her in caring warmth, it suddenly spiked and prickled like pity. Her spine stiffened. Sure, Corey was drunk right now, possibly stoned, but they didn’t know him like she did. He’d come back for her and Milo’s birthday. That was love. That was family.

‘Can you drive, Jade?’ Helen’s voice cut across the loaded silence.

Helen could be so random. Of course she couldn’t drive. She’d never had the chance to learn or a car to practise in. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

Helen inclined her head towards Corey who was jangling his keys.

Before Jade got pregnant, she’d ridden in the ute with Corey when he was high. Then it had been all about danger and exhilaration. Putting it up her mother who hated Corey. Hated her having any fun. But she still remembered the time Corey had played chicken, stopping the car millimetres from a tree. His laugh. Her terror. She wasn’t that girl any more. She was a mother and she must protect Milo. Must protect Corey.

‘We’ll walk home,’ she said firmly.

‘I’m not bloody walking!’ Corey said.

Lachlan opened his mouth, but Bob shook his head. ‘How about I drive the three of you home? Corey, you don’t want to give Denny North the satisfaction of taking your licence away, eh?’

At the mention of the police sergeant, Corey let rip a string of expletives. Surprisingly, he handed over his keys.

After Bob left the unit, Jade’s cake sat on the kitchen bench looking like a woman who’d worn an evening gown to a barbecue. Milo reached for the sparkly decoration, sobbing when she whipped it out of the cake and out of his reach.

He didn’t stop crying when she put his number one candle in its place and lit it. Or when she jiggled him up and down cooing, ‘Shh, buddy, it’s okay.’ He’d tipped from tired into exhausted and nothing would placate him. The family selfie would have to wait.

Fighting disappointment, Jade took him to his room. After he was settled in his cot, she washed her hands and looked in the mirror, surprised at what she saw. She didn’t usually do anything with her hair or wear make-up, but in honour of their birthdays, and so she looked half decent in the photo, she’d made an effort and styled her hair.

Corey was sitting on the bed when she came out of the bathroom. He looked happier than he had at the garden and the knot in her stomach loosened.

‘You want your birthday present?’

Excitement skittered inside her. ‘You got me a present?’

‘Yeah.’

His hands were empty and she couldn’t see a box or parcel on the bed or anywhere. ‘Where is it?’

He patted his crotch. ‘Right here. Come and get it.’

It surprised her how much effort it took to smile—as if the muscles in her face were fighting setting concrete. Of course he was the present. He’d come home for her and Milo. Wasn’t that what she’d wanted more than anything?

After sex that was faster than usual, she left Corey sleeping, ran a bath and finished herself off. Not that she wasn’t used to doing that, but doing it on her birthday sucked.

When the water began to cool, she washed herself, luxuriating in the clean and crisp scent of the soap Lachlan had given her. Her hands stalled between her legs. She dropped the bar and stood up fast, drying herself with a scratchy towel until the only sensation was pain.

When she grabbed clean clothes from the bedroom, the bed was empty. She walked into the small living space, but Corey wasn’t on the couch or in the kitchen. She heard the distinctive roar of his ute and lifted the sheet that doubled as a curtain on the front window to see the vehicle disappearing down the road.

What the hell?

Even though Corey didn’t leave notes she looked around for one, trying to make sense of why he’d left without telling her. She checked her phone for a text. Nothing.

Something made her open the fridge. An empty cardboard wrapper sat on the top shelf. Understanding dawned, bringing relief. He’d gone to buy beer.

She closed the fridge